


And They Were Roommates

by iwritefanficsnottragedies



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 4.8 - Haus 2.0, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, both of these boys need help tbh, dex has like a full breakdown in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 14:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16788361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritefanficsnottragedies/pseuds/iwritefanficsnottragedies
Summary: “I don’t know,” Chowder sighed. “Sometimes it’s like you’re enemies with benefits, but the benefit is hockey instead of, you know, sex.”Dex punched Chowder’s shoulder, hard. “Shut up. It’s nothing like that!”Chowder laughed. “It’s a little like that. The rest of the time, you’re just an old bickering married couple.”The thing is, they don’t talk about their fights. Nursey is the most obnoxiously non-confrontational person Dex has ever met, and Dex himself has been burying his shit since he popped out of the womb. So they don’t discuss what happened. Instead, he and Nursey start to fall into some weird pattern. Dex snaps, Nursey pretends not to get it, rinse and repeat. Dex is losing it. He knows he’s losing it, but he can’t seem to stop.





	And They Were Roommates

Dex sighs, shifts in his chair, and runs his hands over his face. It’s 10:53 pm and the first draft of Dex’s junior portfolio website is due at 8:00 am tomorrow morning. He still needs to finalize and print his project summary, but other than that, he’s _technically_ done. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be up all night making minor adjustments to his code. This portfolio is worth 50% of his grade in the class and he’s anxious about it. Everything has to be perfect. He forces himself to relax his shoulders and his chair creaks violently as he leans back. It’s a cheap chair, quality-wise. Price-wise it was free because he got it from some guy on his hall last year, and he’s definitely not going to spend money on a new one, no matter how much his back hurts when he spends all day at his desk. 

He risks a fleeting glance at the desk beside his. It’s not like Nursey has some sort of fancy CEO chair or anything, but, like everything else in their room, it’s obvious who paid full price for what they have. Nursey’s chair probably doesn’t give him back pain, but if it did, Nursey probably wouldn’t know. Dex has been rooming with Nursey for almost three months now, and he’s never seen Nursey sit at his desk. When Nursey studies in their room, he’s usually in the ridiculously oversized and luridly green bean bag chair that takes up half a wall worth of space. Dex has seen him study in bed a few times too, but usually Nursey does his work in the library or under some tree on the campus grounds. 

Unfortunately for Dex, this means that Nursey treats their room like it’s his after-work hangout pad and -- Dex’s train of thought is interrupted as the man himself bursts in, beanie slouched on his head, book bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Sup, Poindexter?” he grins, casually throwing his bakpack in the general direction of the beanbag chair. The backpack hits the green monstrosity and bounces back off, landing in the middle of the floor. Nursey doesn’t move to pick it back up. 

“I’m not in the mood, Nurse,” Dex warns. He’s started trying to warn Nursey when he’s stressed or anxious or in a position where he’ll get angry easily. It’s not a foolproof plan, because sometimes Nursey just takes it as permission to push Dex’s buttons, but Chowder said that their fights slowed down by about 2% when Dex started voicing his frustration right away, so he figures that’s something. 

“Chill,” is Nursey’s response, which, while super fucking annoying, probably means that Nursey is going to leave him alone tonight. Probably. 

But by the time Dex is back at work, Nursey has clumsily climbed the ladder and settled into his bunk with his headphones in. It’s fine for a few minutes, but then the tell-tale sounds of Nursey’s hipster mandolin shit starts playing and Dex’s muscles tighten again and how on earth can they be tighter than they were before, and shit why is his heart beating so fast, he’s so tired and he’s got such a long night ahead, and what if this draft sucks so badly that he has to start completely over, and 50% of his final grade, and --

“Can you turn down your fucking music?” Dex’s voice comes out louder than he means for it to, but Nursey’s music is so loud that he has to shout to be heard over it. Probably. 

Nursey sits up half way, leaning on his arm, and pulls out one earbud. “Huh?”

“You heard me,” Dex bites out. “Turn down your fucking music.”

“Ask nicely,” Nursey goads.

Dex really doesn’t want to play this game because it’s 11:22 and he has eight hours and thirty-eight minutes to make this project perfect. His voice is acidic when he replies. “Turn down your fucking music _please.”_

“That’s better,” Nursey says. “No problem Dexy.”

Dex takes every emotion he has and shoves it down. Not tonight. He goes back to work.

* * *

“It’s crazy,” Dex had explained to Chowder once, sitting stiffly on the Reading Room’s hot shingles while Chris sipped a beer beside him. “Sometimes it’s like I can’t even stand to be in the same room as him, but then we hit the ice and it all just disappears.” Chowder hummed, so Dex continued. “We put our skates on and suddenly it’s like we just fit. I know exactly what he’s thinking and he knows exactly where I’m headed. We’re a team, but only on the ice, you know? And then as soon as we leave the stadium it’s like, I couldn’t tell you what he was thinking if you held a gun to my head.” If it was anyone else, he’d have made a joke. Something mean about how probably all Nursey ever thought about was himself. But honestly, Chowder had somehow managed to be friends with him and Nursey at the same time, and he didn’t want to see the angrily hurt expression that Chowder got whenever someone insulted his friends.

“I don’t know,” Chowder sighed. “Sometimes it’s like you’re enemies with benefits, but the benefit is hockey instead of, you know, sex.”

Dex punched Chowder’s shoulder, hard. “Shut up. It’s nothing like that!”

Chowder laughed. “It’s a little like that. The rest of the time, you’re just an old bickering married couple.” He grinned as Dex punched him again, and then his face evened out to a serious expression. “Honestly though, you’re right. You’re good at doing hockey together. I wouldn’t want to have anyone else as my first-line D-men. Ransom and Holster were cool, and incredibly good, but it’s different when it’s your best friends.”

“Aww C, come on,” Dex had grinned, and then he changed the subject.

* * *

Dex spends a lot of time hating Nursey, but not usually while they’re on the ice. The nice thing about hockey is, they don’t have to talk to each other, don’t have to communicate in any way except with body language. Sometimes it feels telepathic, the way he can anticipate Nursey’s movements during a game or a practice. That’s what this goal had felt like, like he didn’t even have to look to know that Nursey was there and open and had a clear shot to the goal. And then Nursey had gone careening past, slamming into the boards and going down hard and Dex had panicked for just a second before Nursey got back up, grinning like nothing was wrong.

The team celly is in full swing by the time Dex makes it across the ice, the end game buzzer blaring aggressively behind him. It’s an anticipated win, but still nice. Dex can hear the team congratulating Nursey on the goal, and as he skates up, Nursey turns to him.

“Hey, thanks for the assist, Poindexter!”

But Dex’s heart is still racing, his muscles still tense, his anxiety in full swing and how is he supposed to explain that he thought for a moment that Nursey was hurt? “You’re lucky you didn’t _break your neck_ crashing into the boards like that, Nursey.” It comes out strained and harsher than he intended. It seems like he always sounds harsher than he intends to when he’s talking to Nursey. 

Nursey’s facial expression doesn’t change, but his voice takes on the teasing quality that Dex so strongly despises. “Jeez, Dex, I’ll interpret that as, ‘You’re welcome and keep it u...p.’”

Dex is close enough to hear Nursey’s soft and reservedly panicked, “Chill,” before the rink door swings open and Nursey is flying forward, his skates making an awful banging sound against the hollow wall of the rink. Unfortunately, Dex is also close enough that he hears the crack of bone and sees the pain shoot across Nursey’s face. And Dex pushes the panic down until all he can think is, Honestly, this clumsy-ass motherfucker just broke something in the stupidest way imaginable. 

* * *

He doesn’t go with Nursey to the doctor. He knows he probably should, but he’s fighting with something unidentifiable deep in his gut, and honestly, he doesn’t have time to pull it back up and think about it. His professor says that right now his junior portfolio is, “good enough to land you some entry-level jobs,” which Dex takes to mean average. It’s got to be better than average. He needs good grades, needs a good job when he finishes college. He needs to get the fuck out of Maine. His older brother Jeffjust moved back home. He got a job working for their uncle and he’s living with their parents until he can find his own place, and that sounds like absolute hell to Dex. Maybe two years ago he thought that would be his future, but every time he goes home for breaks he gets a little more sure that he doesn’t want to stay in the town he grew up in.

He’s in his uncomfortable chair, at his desk, working on his portfolio again when Nursey comes back from the doctor.

“Sup, Poindexter?” Dex swivels his chair half way around and takes in the cast on Nursey’s arm. 

“So you broke it, huh?”

“A slight fracture,” Nursey says. “Pretty common apparently, but the doc says I’m not gonna be cleared to play for about three months or so.” He waves the piece of paper that he’s holding in his good hand. “Got a doctor’s note and everything. My first official sports injury.” 

And here’s the thing. Dex is _terrified_ of getting injured. It’s not like he wants to play pro or anything, but hockey is honestly kind of dangerous, and if he gets hurt badly enough, he could lose everything. He’s only at Samwell because of his athletic scholarship, and there’s no way that he would be able to stay here if he couldn’t play. He’d have to drop his classes, have to move back home, have to live with his parents and his older brother Jeff. Jeff, who thought a dude baking was weird. He’d lose his friends, his freedom, his possibility of a future, _everything_. Not to mention the medical bills that his dad’s crappy insurance definitely wouldn’t cover. So when he snaps, “That is not a sports injury,” it’s not because Nursey’s actually done anything wrong. It’s just because Dex is...Dex.

But Nursey is Nursey, which means he treats the aggression like it’s something to mock and laughs. “Yeah, I guess not really. Man, you should have seen my life flash before my eyes when I fell though.” He dumps his coat on the floor where he’s standing and strips off his shirt in a movement that attempts to be fluid but is encumbered by the bulky cast on his forearm. He fights with the shirt for a moment, finally freeing his arm and flinging the shirt in the general direction of his dresser in the corner. “Apparently I’ve had a pretty good life.” The jeans come off next, and Dex swivels his chair all the way back to face his computer. 

He hears Nursey fumbling at the ladder and tries to focus on his website. He should really try to get a hold of Ransom to help him write his bio. Right now it’s just, “I’m William Poindexter, a programing major at Samwell University. If you are interested in hiring me, please contact me via e-mail at wpoind24@samwellu dot edu.” Maybe Rans could help him beef it up a bit. 

There’s a dull thud from behind him, followed by a, “Shit!”, but by the time he glances behind him, Nursey has made it into bed and is pulling the comforter up over his waist. “Heyyyyy Dexy? Wanna sign my cast?” 

“No.” 

It’s quiet for just a moment, and then Dex hears a muted, but overjoyed, “Nursey, you’re back!” from the bathroom. There’s a sound of the toilet flushing, then the sink running, and then Chowder is barging in through the bathroom-connected door. 

“Oh noooooooo!” Chowder’s eyes widen as he sees Nursey’s cast for himself. “It’s broken!”

“Fractured, yeah.” Dex turns back to his computer. “The doctor said I’ll be out for three months. Wanna sign the cast?”

“Of course!” Chowder gasps, excited. “Am I going to be the first one?”

“Nah,” Nursey says, smiling down at Chowder. “A few of the guys downstairs signed it on my way in. Sorry C.”

“That’s ok! I’m just glad you’re all right!” Do you have a Sharpie?

“Dex?” Nursey asks. Dex opens the second drawer on his desk, pulls out a Sharpie, and holds it over his shoulder without turning around. 

“Thanks!” Chowder snatches it out of Dex’s hand and Dex tries to tune them out. He could add a link to the app he worked on last year? No, it’s not even that good. Average. 

“Well! At least you’ll be back for spring semester,” Chowder is saying. Then, “I drew a shark on your cast.” 

“Thanks C,” Nursey says, and sighs. It’s the first bit of genuine emotion Dex has heard from him since he was celebrating his goal at the rink. “You’re right, I’ll be back on the ice in no time. Sports injuries. Amirite?”

And that’s just...no. Dex has had it. Dex is done. “This is _not_ a sports injury.” He’s only saying it for the second time, but it already feels like the hundredth. “You weren’t _playing_ a sport. You tripped directly _after_ the sport.” 

He can feel the frustration coming off of Nursey now, and honestly, this is more like it. He doesn’t have to be _calm_ and _chill_ just because Nursey is hurt. It’s not his fault that Nursey is a fucking klutz who can’t be bothered to check if a door is closed before climbing over it. 

Nursey doesn’t respond to Dex, but when he does speak, his voice is dangerously calm. “Dex, can you get me my backpack? You know how hard it is for me to get off the top bunk with this thing.” Dex whips around to glare at Nursey. “You know,” Nursey continues, all fake-casual, “if you wanted to be helpful for once instead of indefinitely acerbic.” 

And honestly, fuck him, fuck him and his injury that won’t effect his life in the slightest, fuck him and his holier-than-thou attitude, and fuck him and his big fancy words that he thinks Dex is too stupid to know. 

“You can 100% get down from there without -- if you think for one second I’m going to become some sort of maid --” He’s definitely shouting now, but Nursey matches it decibel for decibel. 

“I can’t believe I’m actually physically injured -- like an actual doctor told me I had a sport injury and you --” 

In the future, Dex will think that the way Nursey defended his “sports injury” sounded an awful lot like the way Dex defended his mental health to his family the first summer after he got an actual diagnosis, and he will wonder if Nursey’s ever had to do that before for anything besides a broken arm, but for now he’s standing up out of his chair, striding across the room and screaming into his roommate’s face, “DO NOT! CALL THAT! A SPORTS INJURY!!”

“Why can’t you be a good teammate for once??” Nursey shouts back. “Seriously, you know I’d help you out if you broke your arm --”

Dex actually laughs in his face at that. “When I was sick last season, you told me to chill!!!!” 

“I can’t believe I was actually excited to room with you!” Nursey screams at him.

“I can’t fucking stand you!” Dex screams back. He strides back over to his desk and slams his laptop closed, shoves it into his bag. “I don’t have time for this! I’ve got work to do! Get off your ass and do your own shit you spoiled _precocious_ dick! Look, see! I can use big words too!” He turns and practically runs out, slamming the door behind him. Immediately, he’s exhausted, but he’s already stormed out. He heads for the library. One more all-nighter probably won’t kill him, and even if it does, his roommate definitely won’t care.

* * *

The thing is, they don’t talk about their fights. Nursey is the most obnoxiously non-confrontational person Dex has ever met, and Dex himself has been burying his shit since he popped out of the womb. So they don’t discuss what happened. Practice sucks, and games go so poorly that Dex almost gets pulled from first line until he promises, panicked, that he’ll put some extra practice time in so he can get used to playing with Oli.

He and Nursey start to fall into some weird pattern. Dex snaps, Nursey pretends not to get it, rinse and repeat. Nursey’s shit is all over the room? Sorry dude, that one’s on you and your compulsion issues and also how dare you try to save us money on the gas bill this month. Nursey’s music is too loud? Sorry dude, but your gigantic fucking Dumbo ears are going to pick up the music no matter how loud it is. Nursey left _an entire piece of pie under Dex’s bed for three weeks and now it’s growing who knows what and Dex’s whole bunk stinks?? SORRY DUDE, IT’S YOUR FAULT FOR ASKING ME TO SAVE YOU SOME PIE._ Dex is losing it. 

He knows he’s losing it, but he can’t seem to stop. Every since Nursey broke his arm it’s like he’s been the clingiest, whiniest bitch, (Dex still has his mind enough to say a mental, “Sorry Shitty”), and finally it’s been enough. 

He builds a bunker. It’s literally insane, and he knows it’s insane, but the alternative is sleeping somewhere else, and he is far too fucking stubborn to give up first. He’s a Poindexter man, and apparently Poindexter men would rather lose their fucking minds then lose a competition. So he builds a bunker. A Fortress of Solitude. He’s Superman, he thinks. Stranded on a planet he doesn’t understand, forced to live among people who aren’t like him...grew up in the middle of nowhere. Dex laughs a little and it comes out manic. Nursey is Lex Luthor. Rich, pretentious, and willing to do anything to do away with Dex. 

“Finally done.” He steps back to view his creation. 

A familiar voice from the doorway asks, “What are you doing?”

Dex doesn’t miss a beat. “Building a Fortress of Solitude.” He bends down to climb inside. “If I have to share a room with you, I’m making my own space!” He slams the tiny door, the door that he’s carved his initials into in a spurt of creativity. He doesn’t usually think of himself as a creative person, but honestly, he’s done the years he spent watching HGTV with his mom proud. He...he actually feels a little calmer. Calm enough that he drifts off, curled in the fetal position at the end of his bed. When he wakes up, Nursey is there, sitting on his pillow.

That is the last straw. 

“ _He wins!!”_ he screams into the kitchen at Bitty and Ford. “He defeated me!” They’re both giving him a look that says he’s being way too overdramatic, and in any other circumstance he’d be concerned about getting that look from the two of _them._ But right now he doesn’t even care. “I’m moving into the basement,” he shouts. “Into the _darkness.”_

* * *

The basement isn’t actually that bad, but Dex associates it with loud noises and hard labor, and it’s kinda damp and yeah this is gonna suck. Fuck Nursey, he thinks as he descends the stairs. Fuck him. This is all his fault. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu--

And then Dex punches the wall.

And yeah, bad idea. He hasn’t done this since his first year at Samwell, since Jack found him after a bad game, punching a sign until his knuckles bled. Jack took a walk with him and talked about how sometimes self harm takes forms that are different than what’s on TV and how hurting himself wasn’t a good way to deal with his anger. At the time, Dex had kinda figured that Jack was just being a good captain and looking out for his team, but now Dex knows there was more to it than that. Either way, Jack had been the first person to tell him that his actions weren’t normal or healthy, and Jack had made an impact. Dex had skipped class a few days later to walk to the clinic a mile away. He had used the last fifty dollars of his high school graduation money to get officially diagnosed with anxiety and minor depression. 

And now...it sounds like the ocean is rushing out of his ears and his hand fucking hurts. The walls in the basement are cement. He bites back tears and considers the ironic possibility that he has just broken his hand. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? 

“Hey, Dex?” 

His whole body goes stiff for a moment, and he hears Bitty’s voice call from the top of the stairs, “I wouldn’t!” But it’s Chowder’s face that appears a moment later, looking concerned and hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” Dex says, before they even start this conversation. Chowder always ends up in the middle of these things with him and Nursey and that’s got to suck. In fact, Dex knows it sucks because he grew up in the middle of every argument. His parents, his siblings, his parents again, but louder this time until Dex had to take control and start fights himself so he wouldn’t have to be in the middle of it all and oh fuck, Chowder is him and he and Nursey are the bickering parents, and oh _fuck_ he’s turning into his father and -- 

“Hey, hey, Dex. It’s okay.” Dex barely feels Chowder’s arms wrap around him. 

“I’m so sorry C. C, I’m so sorry. I didn’t...I don’t...”

“I know,” Chowder says. “Let’s sit down.” 

They do. They sit cross-legged on the cold cement floor of the basement and Dex whispers, “I’m my father,” and Chowder shakes his head even though Dex is sure Chris doesn’t know what that means. “I am,” Dex insists. “He was always pushing, always looking for a fight from somewhere, and I was always so scared of him. We all were. Mom would fight back a little, but mostly she would just take it, and eventually she got all hard and cold and stopped caring about any of us.” He stops, looks up, terrified. “What if that’s what I did to Nursey?” he breaths. 

Chris looks sad. “You’re not the one who did that to him, Dex.” 

“How do you know?”

“Best friends. We talk.” Chowder pauses. “But honestly, you’re not helping him get better either. You know, he really cares about you.”

“Yeah right.” Dex rolls his eyes. 

“He does. He’s not good at showing it...tends to be clingy and obsessive, but he does care about you. And I think you care about him too, somewhere deep down.”

“I...I don’t know.” 

“That’s okay.” Chowder nods, sagely. “We can figure it out together.”

“I don’t...I don’t know if I want to.” There’s something buried deep, he knows, something that Nursey is able to activate in a way that no one else has before. It’s not just competition. He’s not sure he wants to know what it is. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m...” Scared. Terrified. “Just...what if I figure it out, and it changes everything?”

Chowder takes Dex’s hand, examining his scraped knuckles and Dex hisses. “It can’t get much worse, can it? Please Dex, just talk to me.”

Dex knows that if he’s ever hit rock bottom, it’s today. So he talks. He talks about his anxiety and his depression and how he doesn’t have the money to pay for even the cheapest treatment options. He talks about his parents who loved each other enough to stay together, but hated each other enough to make staying together a living hell. 

He talks about his dad who roughed him up just to the borderline of abuse, but no further. He talks about how guilty he feels for being fucked up by it when so many people have it so much worse. He talks about the mom he remembers, who soothed him when he cried and watched TV with him on the weekends, and the mom who he goes home to now, who’s clinical and uncaring, impervious to his cries. 

He talks, slowly and quietly, about how scared he is of his brother Jeff. How Jeff is like their father but worse. How Jeff was never borderline about his abuse and how Dex only survived by being strong and locking away any part of himself that Jeff wouldn’t approve of. 

And then he talks about Samwell, where he is allowed to open up, allowed to be himself, and how frustrating it is that he’s still stuck with a gag over his mouth. How he’s been here for two and a half years and he still hasn’t been able to trust anyone enough to talk to them about this shit. He’s had Jack and Bitty as his captains, the two most understanding and accepting people in the entire world. He’s had Shitty, who’s taught him all the things about the world that his family never did, Lardo, who’s never let her hard edges keep her from being kind, Ransom, who took time away from his studies to help Dex pass his classes, and Holster, who took time away from his social life to try to help Dex have one of his own. And yet, here Dex is, a weight in his chest, a fucking tidal wave of trauma ready to be released, and he just can’t let himself do it. _Couldn’t._ He realizes with a start that he’s just told Chris Chow everything he’s been keeping down for years. 

Well. Almost everything.

“That’s a lot,” Chowder says. They’ve scooted closer together, backs against the slightly damp wall. Chowder’s hand is on Dex’s knee, thumb moving back and forth in a rhythmic pattern that is strangely comforting. 

“Also, I think I might be gay,” Dex says. 

“Ok,” Chowder says back, and it actually might be okay. Then there’s a loud gasp from the top of the stairs. Dex looks up just in time to meet Nursey’s eyes before Nursey _runs._

“Fuck.” Dex says and that about sums it up he thinks. He’s drained, exhausted, and honestly, this might as well happen. 

Chowder is starting to stand, starting to try to run interference, but Dex stops him. “It’s fine Chow. I’ll handle it.” He stands and heads for the stairs before doubling back to give Chowder a firm hug. “I don’t actually know how to thank you for this, C.”

Chowder pulls back, looks into his eyes, and says, “Go get a therapist Dex.” Dex snorts back a tired laugh. 

“How about the next time Jack is in town, I’ll see if he can help me with it, okay?”

* * *

Nursey is in their room, trying to look chill as he puts his laundry in the dresser. Dex can’t help but roll his eyes, for old time’s sake.

“You look like Dwight in that episode of the Office where Angela’s supposed to tell Andy about their affair and Dwight thinks that Andy’s gonna fight him. Calm down. I’m not going to fight you.” Dex plops into his desk chair and spins around once. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. Sit.” He motions to the obnoxious beanbag chair and Nursey complies, sinking down into it.

“So,” Nursey starts at the same time that Dex says,

“How much did you hear?”

“Just the last part,” Nursey admits. “Although I think maybe that was the biggest thing.” There’s a question in his voice. 

“Kinda, yeah. Look, I’m not actually sure yet. About being...you know. I know you’re all ‘comfortable with your sexuality’ or whatever, but I literally haven’t even let myself think about it until about ten minutes ago. So don’t like, tell anyone or whatever.” 

Nursey’s eyes widen, “Of course not.” 

“Ok.”

It’s silent again for a moment. They need to talk about the fight. They don’t do this. 

“So,” Nursey starts again, “I really like playing hockey with you.”

Dex laughs because leave it to Nursey to start from a neutral zone. “I think it’s pretty obvious that I like playing hockey with you too.” 

Nursey shakes his head slightly. “Not obvious. Not to me.” 

Dex’s eyes widen. “Really? Dude, it’s sucks playing without you. My game has gone way down these past few weeks. That’s partly why I was so pissed that you broke your arm.” 

Nursey smiles a little. “Okay. Umm...I really like working in the kitchen with you. I know Bitty doesn’t always let me in there, but I like watching you bake. It’s...kind of amazing.” 

“My brother thinks baking is gay,” Dex says without thinking. 

“Baking doesn’t make you gay,” Nursey says, harsh. “Is that why you think you’re gay?”

“No, Nurse. I think I’m gay because I’ve never wanted to fuck women and I notice men all the time. What I need to figure out is whether or not I want to fuck men.” 

“Oh.” Nursey is keeping something in, Dex can tell, but he’s not sure he wants to know what it is. 

“So, we play great hockey together,” Dex starts again and Nursey laughs. A little bit of the tension clears. 

“When I broke my arm...” Nursey is quiet, stiller somehow than he was before. “When I broke it, I don’t know, it just felt like you didn’t care. I guess I just wanted to make you care...about it. About...about _me_.”

Nursey is so far out of his comfort zone. Dex has never been good at reading Nursey, but he’s more open right now, more honest. More like he is on the ice. Dex thinks about what Chowder said, about how Dex isn’t the one who made Nursey cold, but he’s not helping him heal either, and Dex decides he probably needs to return the favor. “I...” It feels like it’s harder for him to choke the words out, “I saw you hit the boards and go down after you made the goal and I was really scared. I thought you were actually hurt. And then when you weren’t, it’s like...I get all anxious and I have all this built-up tension and nowhere to put it. So I just...dumped it I guess.”

Nursey nods. “I get that. But it’s not fair to me, you know that, right?”

Dex nods back. “Yeah. But Nurse, over the past few weeks, you’ve been...a lot. I don’t know if I can handle this being the new normal. I have so much shit going on in my life. I need at least once place where I can have some peace.” 

“I know. And you have no idea how much I want that place to be here, with --” Nursey cuts himself off. “I want that place to be here. I think maybe we need to set up some rules. Rule one: I will not ask Dex to stop his work just to do something for me that I can do myself. Good?”

Dex smiles and nods. “Rule two: I will find a way to channel my anger that does not involve shouting at you.” 

Nursey raises an eyebrow, “Going for the big guns right out of the gate, huh?”

“Well, I figure why not get to the bottom of the issue right away, yeah?”

“Yeah. Umm...Rule three: I will not use the word “chill” to purposely annoy Dex into anger.”

“Rule four: I will not bother Nursey about his messes as long as they are contained to areas that I can not see.”

“Rule five: I will stay out of Dex’s fortress of solitude if the door is closed.” Dex looks at Nursey and Nursey shrugs. “You need personal space, and you clearly spent a long time on it. Also, it’s kind of dope. I think you should keep it.” 

“Ok,” Dex says. “Rule six: I will spend a few minutes talking to Nursey about our days every night before we go to bed.”

Nursey’s eyes widen. “How did you know that I --”

Dex shrugs. “My mom and I used to do it when I was younger. You remind me of her, so I figured...” he shrugs again.

“Thanks.” Nursey seems genuinely touched and Dex feels something move around in his stomach. “Rule seven -- why does it feel like I’m going to have more rules than you do?”

For just a moment, Dex wants to be an asshole, but today at least, he’s going to be honest. “I have an anger management problem. That’s kind of the basis of all of your issues with me, so now that I’ve made a rule about it, there’s really nothing else left.”

“Oh. ...I’m starved for affection.” Dex has been spinning back and forth slightly, looking at the floor, but now his eyes snap up to meet Nursey’s. “That’s what my therapist used to tell me at least,” Nursey says. “She said that because my parents were away all the time and I never got affection from them, I acted out to try to get attention in whatever way I could. I think...I think maybe that’s my problem. But I don’t know how to put that into a rule.”

“Rule seven:” Dex says slowly, “Tell me right away if you bring me food. I’m sorry I got mad at you for that one. That was actually you trying to be nice, I think.” 

It’s the first time either of them has said sorry, and Dex said it first. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like as much of a failure as he thought it would. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you about it. I didn’t take my meds that day, and sometimes I forget about things if I don’t take them.”

“Okay,” Dex says. He knows that Nursey takes meds, but he never thought it was any of his business what they were for. 

“They’re for depression,” Nursey says, like he’s reading Dex’s mind. They’re not even on the ice. 

“Oh. I have that a little bit too. It’s mostly anxiety for me though. Got diagnosed my freshman year here. Don’t take meds though.”

“Oh hey, we’re opposites then. It’s mostly depression for me with a little anxiety thrown in. Cool.”

“Fucked up mental health bros,” Dex jokes and Nursey actually laughs. 

“Anything else we need to add?” Nursey asks. 

Dex thinks about it for a second. “I want your chair.” 

“What?”

“Your desk chair. I want it. I’m sick of this piece of shit giving me back pain while your nice chair is right there. You don’t even use it.” 

“Ok,” Nursey laughs again. “Sure.”

“And I want you to get noise cancelling headphones. I’m sick of your stupid hipster-ass banjo music.” 

“Done,” Nursey smiles. “Anything for you.” 

And...oh wow. Okay. That’s...that’s something. 

“Nursey?” Nursey’s cheeks are coloring more the longer Dex looks at him, and oh wow. Okay. Dex had not picked up on this.

Nursey stands up and clears his throat. “I think we make a pretty great team, don’t we Poindexter?” 

“Apparently only when you’re nervous and I’m exhausted.” Dex is going to be brave, he’s going to. Just, maybe not today. “Hey Nursey, can I...sometime...tell you some of the stuff I told Chow today? There’s a lot of it, and I think someone besides C should know. It would be hard on him to have to deal with all of my shit by himself.”

Nursey’s eyes are wide. “Of course. Yeah. Anytime.”

“Ok. Just not...not today. You already know I’m questioning my sexuality. That seems like enough for today. And,” he adds like an afterthought, although it’s definitely not, “if you ever want to talk about...anything...I’m here. So...yeah.”

“Ok.” Nursey sounds in awe of what Dex has just said. He’s moving toward Dex and Dex’s heart leaps for just a second because Nursey really looked like he wanted to -- but that’s ridiculous and Dex doesn’t want that, does he? _Does he?_

All of this happens too fast for Dex to process so by the time Nursey has his desk chair in his good hand and is saying, “Here’s your new throne my liege,” what comes out of Dex’s mouth is,

“Kiss me.” 

They both stop still and stare at each other. Dex can feel his face heating. “You...I mean...you don’t have to...I just...I just...” Oh gosh what has he done? Despite all his flaws, Nursey is amazing and Dex is just average, so average, and Nursey would never want someone like him, and does he even know what he’s doing, he’s never even kissed a man before and --”

And then Nursey is kissing him. 

It’s slow and chaste, the kiss of someone who wants more but isn’t going to take it without explicit permission, and Dex appreciates it. It means though, that he’s still going to have to wonder if Nursey is as good at making out as he claims, and _when did Dex start wondering that??_

“Thanks,” Dex says when they pull apart, and it’s a stupid thing to say, but Nursey doesn’t tease him this time.

“Yeah, no problem,” Nursey says. He’s still in Dex’s space and Dex can feel how warm he is. He spares a brief moment to wonder why Nursey is always complaining about the central heating system before says instead, 

“I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what I’m doing, and we probably can’t make this something until I figure myself out.”

“I know,” Nursey says.

“You might have to wait a while.”

“I know.” 

“I’m still going to be an asshole sometimes.”

“Oh, I definitely know.” 

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, I think so.” 

“Okay. I should probably get back to work. I’m stuck trying to write this stupid bio for my portfolio and I just can’t do the words right. And Ransom isn’t picking up his phone.” 

Nursey looks affronted. “Dude, your roommate is an English major! Let me help you!” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah!”

“Umm...okay. Yeah, sure. Okay.”

“Okay. Hey Dex?”

“Hmm?”

“Before we do that, will you sign my cast?”

Dex smiles, grabs his Sharpie out of the second drawer down on his desk, and uncaps it. “Sure, Nursey. I’d love to.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Woo-hoo! My first fic on AO3! Thanks for reading, and thanks to Ngozi for lending me her beautiful disaster frogs. The 4.8 update was so funny and so good...I just needed a way to let Dex calm down from his murderous rage lol. I literally got home from work yesterday, sat down on my couch, and wrote this whole thing. Honestly, I find it easier to write from Dex's perspective, but neither of them had the high ground in that update, which hopefully I captured. Continue shouting about NurseyDex with me in the comments or over on my Tumblr @bittybakespie. Thank you!


End file.
